Slapstick Valentine
by indigo's ocean
Summary: What with the broken arm, vitally important court case, and sudden profusion of yellow roses, Ema has all but forgotten that it's Valentine's Day. Unfortunately, that glimmerous fop seems intent on reminding her. mild Klema, post Apollo Justice


_So yeah, my Klema-loving friend _(reno_sunnyd_ on livejournal_)_, last week, managed to fall and dislocate both her left elbow and her left knee, at the same time. And so now she's hobbling around in a cast and a knee brace, which makes me feel bad. I mean, it was at karate, but she wasn't even fighting. And it was the one day I missed. ...I am going to get so much shit for putting this in my author's note._

_But _anyway_, I somehow ended up promising to write her another Klema for Valentine's Day. I... used her situation for partial inspiration. Can you guess how? Pfft._

**Slapstick Valentine**

What with the broken arm, vitally important court case, and sudden profusion of yellow roses, Ema has all but forgotten that it's Valentine's Day. Unfortunately, that glimmerous fop seems intent on reminding her. [mild Klema, post Apollo Justice]

---

Ema was awoken by a knock on her apartment door. The clock on the VCR read two-thirty pm, but she was still in her pajamas and her hair was a mess. The TV was still on, the blankets on her couch were wrinkled and tangled, and the room was stuffy. Groaning, she stood, feeling horribly unbalanced by the weight of her cast as she got to her feet.

The knock sounded again. "I'm coming!" she called irritably, stepping over a pile of clothes on the floor. It had only been three days but somehow she had already managed to trash her small living room.

She fumbled with the lock; it was tricky to open with just one hand. "I told you, Apollo, you really need to call me if you're going to - _oh_."

Standing in the doorway was not a red-clad defense attorney as she had assumed, but instead a blonde, purple-suited ace prosecutor whose face was obscured by a large bouquet of yellow roses. "Good afternoon, Fräulein," Klavier said, trying to peer around the basket in his arms.

Before she had a chance to think about it, Ema had slammed the door in his face and locked it. She pressed a hand to her rapidly beating heart, panting. "You scared the _crap_ out of me, you glimmerous fop!"

"I did knock, Fräulein," Klavier replied, his voice muffled by the thick doorway. "Would you please let me in? The hallway is cold."

Frantically, Ema lurched into her bedroom and grabbed a bathrobe from the closet. Donning it as quickly as she could with one hand, she limped around her room, tossing discarded Snackoo bags into a pile and kicking her dirty clothing further down the hallway. The blankets on the impromptu couch-bed were straightened as quickly and neatly as she could manage and the empty Chinese takeout boxes were hustled into her kitchen trash. She cracked a window and left the television on - she would need something to distract her if Klavier got too annoying.

When she finally finished and returned to the door, making a vain effort at fixing her hair, the prosecutor was still knocking. "Fräulein, it's freezing out here." He sounded annoyed, as far as Ema could tell from the other side of the doorway. "I don't know what you're doing in there, but could you please -"

He was cut off when a slightly out-of-breath Ema flung open the door again. "I wasn't dressed," she explained sullenly, smoothing her bathrobe.

Klavier stepped inside, and as he passed her, she could see him raise an elegant blonde eyebrow at her attire. "You're still not."

She glared and shut the door behind him, adjusting her dark pink bathrobe self-consciously. "Well, I'm more dressed than I was five minutes ago."

The prosecutor made a noncommittal noise and asked, "Where should I put these flowers?" He looked around her small living room, raising an eyebrow again as he saw the Snackoo bags piled up in the corner. "Your house is smaller than I expected, Fräulein."

"It's an apartment; of course it's small," Ema said irritably as she opened up the cupboard under the sink in search of that clear vase she had bought for a discount. She gritted her teeth as she groped around in the cupboard with one arm, lifting up her cast and keeping it out of her way. The plaster was heavy and it was straining her shoulder.

Behind her, she could hear Klavier begin to tap his foot. "Your hair is a mess, Fräulein."

"_Really_?" she replied sarcastically, finally locating the vase. It was way in the back, probably covered with dust and cobwebs.

"Ja," Klavier replied conversationally. "Did I wake you up when I knocked on the door?"

Ema ignored him as she extricated the vase from the clutter and examined it critically. The glass had held up surprisingly well over the past year as it had languished in the cupboard. It _was_ dusty, though - smeared with dirt and grime. Rolling her eyes, she turned on the sink and stuck it under the stream, both in an effort to wash it and fill it with water for the flowers.

"Did I wake you up?" Klavier asked again. For some reason he had followed her into the kitchen.

"_Yes_," she said nastily, exasperated. "My house was a mess, too."

"Apartment, Fräulein," the prosecutor corrected with an air of smugness.

The detective rolled her eyes. "What-ever," she replied, knowing she sounded like a bitch of a teenager but unable to help it. She leaned over the counter to reach the dishtowel and gave the vase a half-hearted wipe. It was dry enough. Balancing it carefully in the crook of her good arm and steadying it with her cast, she turned around.

At the same moment, Klavier stepped forward, his arms still full of the gigantic bouquet. "Allow me to assist you, Fräu-"

_CRASH!_

Ema let out a small shriek as his elbow jostled her cast, jolting her injured arm and sending the vase falling to the floor. Both her slippered feet and Klavier's black boots were instantly drenched, and, instinctively, she jumped back, landing heavily against the dishwasher and jolting her already bruised thigh.

As she cursed, Klavier gazed down at the mess with an expression of dismay. Depositing the bouquet on Ema's tiny kitchen table, he took her elbow with a grip that was firm enough to brook no argument. "You need to sit down, Fräulein," he said firmly, steering the detective back to the couch. "I forgot you were sick, too."

"I am _not_," Ema said, though she was, embarrassingly, too tired to struggle. "I'm just injured."

"Which is just as good a reason for you to be sitting down," the prosecutor said as he pressed her shoulder to make her sit. Ema did so reluctantly, glaring up at him. "Now, Fräulein Skye, where is the broom?"

She began to get up, but was halted by Klavier's glare. "In the closet in the hallway," she told him, praying that he wouldn't notice (or at least wouldn't comment on) the pile of dirty clothes. To be completely honest, she really hated cleaning up after herself and it was nice to have someone else to sweep up the mess.

Well. It would have been nice, if that someone hadn't been Klavier Gavin.

Behind her, she heard Klavier shut the closet door and clomp back over the kitchen. Doing her best to ignore him and his soft whistling as he cleaned up the shards of glass, Ema kicked off her soaking slippers with a shudder and drew up her feet so that she was seated cross-legged on the couch. She winced as her bruised thigh twinged uncomfortably.

The three o'clock news was playing, the anchor talking against a backdrop of Gourd Lake. It was some new lead on the monster sightings of several years ago - apparently, someone had brought in new photographic evidence that showed 'definitive proof' of Gourdy's existence.

"The case went very well, thanks to you, Fräulein," Klavier said from the kitchen. To her great surprise, Ema found herself turning down the volume of the television to listen to him. If anything, she would have normally turned it up and pretended she didn't hear. But this was important.

"Apollo told me that you were doing well," she said over her shoulder. "Has it finished?"

"Ja," Klavier replied. "There's that three-day limit on all the cases, remember?" For a moment, Ema caught a glimpse of his blonde head over the countertop. He looked satisfied with something, probably himself. "It was difficult at first, but the jury ended up approving the prosecution by a landslide." There was a pause, where Ema heard the _swish, swish_ of the broom. "This new jurist system is really quite interesting," the prosecutor said finally.

Ema was a detective first, and a lawyer not at all. "What about the evidence?" she asked, twisting around on her seat and ignoring the discomfort from her leg and her broken arm. "_My_ evidence. You used it, right?"

"It was absolutely vital to the case, Fräulein," Klavier replied seriously.

She glared at the top of his head, the only part of his body that was visible from behind the counter. "...If Apollo hadn't already told me that, I would never have believed you."

Klavier stood. "Fräulein, you wound me." He paused, and put a hand dramatically over his heart. "Where are your towels?"

"Dish towels or bath towels?" Ema asked automatically. "Either way, they're in the closet. Put the broom away, too." As an afterthought, she added, "Please."

"As soon as I find the trash can."

"Under the counter, cupboard next to the sink," she replied instantly. "So you did win? ...With my evidence?"

The prosecutor sighed. "Ja, Fräulein. It would have been terribly sad if we did not use the evidence that you risked your life for." He gave Ema's cast a significant glance. "Even if you only injured yourself through your own clumsiness."

Ema bristled. "It was _icy_! The sidewalk was covered in _ice_ and all I did was _slip_!"

"If you had been watching where you were going," Klavier replied, a hint of arch amusement in his tone, "you could have dispensed with the five hour stay at the emergency rooms, the X-rays, the cast, the three days of sick leave, the bouquet..."

"Shut up," the detective snapped. "How do you even know all that?"

"Because I'm the one paying for it." At her stunned look, Klavier shook his head. "Excuse me. I meant _I_ as a member of the prosecuting offices. Since, to all intents and purposes, you work for us."

"You're not the head prosecutor, though," Ema pointed out. "So you're not _actually _paying."

Klavier shrugged. "Ja, well, it comes out the salary the government pays the prosecutors for each case. Including mine. And I'm here on the orders of the head prosecutor himself, anyway. Him and whoever's in charge of the Criminal Affairs Department at the moment."

"Took you long enough," Ema replied, turning back to the television. "Usually, don't the care packages arrive the day after a work-related injury? That's what happened with Gumshoe a few months ago. I know; I was the one to deliver it, that time."

"They do," Klavier assured her, and Ema realized with a start that they were dangerously close to having a civil conversation. "Usually. We were just all so wrapped up in this case that no one had a chance to run down to the flower shop for you until today. In fact, I was the first one who offered. After all, it _is_ Valentine's day."

Ema blinked. "It is? Already?" Then her expression hardened into one of cynicism. "I suppose you had to pick up several bouquets for your multiple girlfriends, so it was no big deal." She twisted around to glare at Klavier, who was leaning against the counter, contemplating the roses. "Am I right?"

"Nein, Fräulein Detective," the prosecutor said, shaking his head. "Unfortunately, they seem to have forgotten what I look like now that my face isn't on the television twenty-four/seven."

"Pity," Ema replied sarcastically. "Must be tough for a glimmerous fop like you." She turned up the volume on the TV - ridiculous monster sightings or not, watching the news was better than listening to Klavier moan about his lack of a love life. She got enough of that from Apollo. _Honestly_.

She had almost managed to forget he was in her kitchen when a plastic bucket full of bright yellow roses was placed with a thump on the coffee table in front of her, effectively blocking her view. Ema whipped up her head to see a smiling Klavier. "Flowers for the Fräulein," he said, nodding to the bucket. "I was unable to find another vase, so I had to make do. I hope you don't mind."

"It's fine," Ema told him curtly. In reality, she was a little flattered, but she would die before letting the prosecutor find out. "Now could you move them? You're blocking my view."

"But Fräulein," Klavier said plaintively, "you haven't read the get well card yet?"

"Where is it?" she asked irritably, leaning forward with a wince to look at the bouquet. "Look, you didn't even take off the plastic wrap..."

The prosecutor gave an elaborate sigh, fishing out an envelope from the midst of the flowers. "My apologies, Fräulein, but I don't usually take care of flowers. With the _Gavinners_, our manager would..." He shrugged and handed her the card.

Wondering why he was being more annoying (solicitous) than usual, Ema slid out a pink-patterned card. "_Get well soon_," she read aloud. "_We appreciate all your hard work and hope you will recover quickly!_ And it's signed by everyone in both departments." She couldn't help giving the paper a small smile. "And? Now will you move the flowers?"

Klavier simply stood there, smiling.

Exasperated, she looked at the card again, more closely. "I notice your signature isn't on here," she observed finally, looking up at the prosecutor again. "You thought that if you got the flowers, you could weasel out of signing my card?"

"That's not it," the prosecutor said, reaching into his pocket. "It was because I was getting you this, too."

Ema took the offered package with a frown, examining it warily. It was a medium-sized box, wrapped in pink paper with silver filigree, and tied with a silver bow. "I hate pink," she said, sliding off the ribbon and peeling off the wrapping paper as best she could with one hand.

"You could have fooled me, Fräulein," Klavier said with a pointed glance at her dark pink bathrobe, pale pink pajamas, and rose-colored blankets. Even her cast was pink - the doctors had wrapped it with glaring, neon plaster.

"Shut up," Ema said automatically, dropping the last of the wrapping paper to reveal a shiny silver box. "A box."

"Open it," the prosecutor suggested, his voice tinged with humor.

Out of curiosity, more than anything, Ema complied, maneuvering the lid open with only a little trouble. "Chocolates," she said, raising an eyebrow. They looked surprisingly expensive. "You got me chocolates last year, too."

Klavier, his hands in his pockets, looked greatly amused. "No 'thank you'? You're lucky that I give you anything at all."

"Probably because you're so pathetic that you have no one else to give it to," Ema remarked, touched in spite of herself. "...Thank you. Um, last year, what did I get _you_ for Valentine's Day?"

"A Snackoo," Klavier said. "To the forehead. I treasured the mark it made, all day," he added with a hint of sarcasm.

Ema looked around. "Damn, I'm fresh out."

The prosecutor followed her eyes to the pile of empty Snackoo bags in the corner of the room. "I noticed," he said wryly. "Do you need me to go get more? I heard they're on sale at the grocery store."

"No, it's fine," Ema replied, taking one last look at the delicious looking chocolates before shutting the lid and placing the box on the table. "Apollo should be coming by later with some more. And some of that Coldkiller X, just in case."

Klavier's eyes widened in mock surprise. "Herr Forehead? Do I detect a rival for your affections?"

"What _affections_?" Ema snapped, glaring up at him. Then she leaned back against the couch again. "Seriously, though, I... appreciate the chocolates."

Now Klavier's surprise was real. "Fräulein Skye is thanking me _seriously_? Ah, has the world come to an end? ...Is that brimstone I smell?" He pantomimed looking around. "Or is that just stale Snackoos?"

"Shut _up_," Ema said, groping around the couch for something to throw at him. But aside from her pillows, the couch was suspiciously clean - and she didn't want anything she slept on touching Klavier. At all. She settled for glaring. "You could say 'You're welcome', you know."

"Of course I could, Fräulein. I _do_ speak English, after all." Klavier gave a smile and an ironic bow. "Well, that's all the business I have here. I'll be taking my leave now. Please don't get up, Fräulein Detective." He turned and strode towards the door. Then, with his hand on the knob, he paused and turned to look back at her. "Happy Valentine's Day... Ema."

Ema blinked, startled at the use of her name, then turned to him and stuck out her tongue. "Whatever." She had always hated Valentine's Day, anyway.

But when Apollo Justice arrived about an hour later, he was met with a very odd request. "I'm going to give you the money to buy a nice box of chocolates," Ema told him. "Not too big. Medium-small sized. And I want you to deliver it to Klavier Gavin."

Apollo widened his eyes. "What?"

The detective smiled. "Just tell him it's from me," she said. "Payback."

---

_Ch'yeah, that's all. I distinctly remember promising never to write a Klema again in my author's note for _Rose Tinted Goggles_, which, by the way, you should all go read and review. Unfortunately, due to circumstances beyond my control (and explained in the note at the top), I found myself doing it again..._

_Like many things in life, writing Klema gets easier the second time._

Reviews are love_, and especially appropriate today, since it's Valentine's Day and dedicated to love. And chocolate. But you can't give me that. ...I'll settle for reviews._ :D


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